Instinctively grandpa and Rosa cast a glance at each other.  At last their opportunity had come, and a better one by far than for which they had dared to hope!

The time intervening between the reception of the letter and her departure, Mrs. Gray spent mostly in giving directions to her two charges, as she delighted to call them.

After having gone down the first flight of stairs, she called back: 

“Rosa, I’ll lick you sure if you git another speck of grease on that there floor, while I’m gone.”

But Rosa heeded not.  Tomorrow she and grandpa would start for the beautiful land and mother, for Jesus had paid all the fare.

[Illustration]

V.

The way sought.

Early the next morning Rosa and grandpa were up, eagerly preparing for the events of the day, their every motion evidencing a subdued excitement, while joy beamed from their eyes.

“I’m going to make you some tea, grandpa, ’cause it’s cold, and I think you’ll feel better to drink it.  Mis’ Gray told me I shouldn’t touch it, but since we’re going away, I guess it won’t make no difference.  We may have to travel a good ways, you know.  Mother used to drink tea, when we could afford it, before starting out to work all day.  My, ain’t I glad we’re going to find mother!  And she won’t be coughing no more.  I want to see her so bad.  Of course Mis’ Gray has been good to give me a home, but I’d rather be with mother.  She’s different some way, and I love her so.  It seems so long since she went away.”

“Thank you, dearie, fer this tea; it’s real bracin’ like, and I can’t remember when I’ve had none before Tom used to git it fer me, and anything else I wanted.

“Yes, I’m mighty glad we’re a-goin’, mighty glad, fer I’m a-gittin’ homesicker all the time.  I think we’ll find Tom, too, and Tom’s mother.  There’s a lot I want to tell ’em.  Sary’s so busy, she don’t have no time to talk to me.

“Last night I dreamed ag’in that I wuz in the little white meetin’ house with the steeple a-pintin’ straight up.  The green vines a-wavin’ in the breeze wuz a-growin’ all over it, and the roses smelled so pretty.  And the man wuz a-readin’ out of the Book, Rosa.  Wish I could read, then I’d know it fer myself.”

“What was he reading about, grandpa?”

“Dunno as I can tell you, child, only somethin’ about a river, and a tree by it, and fruit, and the folks don’t git sick no more, and—­well, I can’t tell you, Rosa, but hurry up, let’s start!  When we git there, we’ll know all about it then.”

“Here, grandpa, put this bread in your pocket, please.  P’rhaps we’ll need it.”

“I’ll take it fer you, Rosa, if you say so, but I don’t think we’ll need it.  ‘Pears like the man said somethin’ about their not gittin’ hungry no more, nor thirsty.”

“But then mebbe we’ll want it on the way.”